Some Degree of Murder (16 page)

Hiero sighed. “I’ll explain it to her.”

“All right.” I rubbed the stubble on my chin. “She should stay somewhere safe and off the streets for a while. Until I figure out who this new guy is and what he’s up to.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Hiero said.

“I don’t want to know.”

He hesitated, moving his right hand slightly as if considering offering a handshake. Then he rose slowly from his seat and walked carefully to the interview room. A few moments later, he walked out with Toni, his hand gently in the small of her back.

As they disappeared from view, I turned back to my desk and pulled out Fawn Taylor’s file. I stared at the tab with her name and the report number and didn’t open it right away. A single question was burning in my mind.

Who the hell was this guy?

I lit my last Camel and inhaled deeply. I’d been watching the Brotherhood of the Southern Cross clubhouse for five hours and no one, not a member, a prospect or junkie stopped by. There were no bikes in front of the club house. Everything had come to a screeching halt.

Earlier in the day, someone found Sammy G’s body and called the cops. They closed down everything.

From my window, I could see the cops crawling all over the area. They even tried to do a dog track, but the stupid pooch ran almost around in circles trying to catch a scent. The dog handler must have finally convinced the guy in charge that it was a worthless attempt.

Everything and everyone went underground as the cops searched for evidence.

That all changed, though, when the last of the cops left the area.

First, the girls came tentatively back to the street. One by one, they seemed to appear out of nowhere, their bodies went up for sale but the market hadn’t reappeared yet.

The hookers were followed closely by the dealers and the crack heads. They clustered in the doorways of defunct or closed businesses. Guys and girls with the shakes quickly found their suppliers. One short black kid sprinted across the street for a hit of crack. He didn’t step off of the sidewalk before he fired up. The dealer who sold him the junk screamed at him to move and the kid did as he was told, awkwardly trying to hit the remaining rock in his pipe as he ran.

A short time later, the citizens who like to play in this wonderland made their separate ways down. They stopped their cars
alongside the girls and the dealers, buying whatever they needed to make it through the night.

But none of the BSC ever came back. I finally had enough of watching nothing and decided to walk back downtown. I wanted a change of clothes and to sleep in a decent bed.

I slipped out of my motel room and walked down the stairs to the first level. It was dark out and the streetlights illuminated the night. Standing with her back to the railing of the stairwell was a young girl, probably seventeen. She had a pretty face with dull eyes. She had plastered gel or something into her red hair to slick it back.

She wore a black mini-skirt, pink shirt and scuffed-up black, leather jacket. Her pink shirt said
Hello Kitty
with a Japanese styled cat in the middle. Around her neck was a large silver cross that hung from a black choker.

“Hi,” she said after pulling the cigarette from her mouth.

“Hey,” I said and started to walk by.

“Wanna date?”

I stopped and turned back to her. “What?”

She shrugged half-heartedly. “Wanna date?”

I pulled out Fawn’s picture and showed it to her. “Ever see this girl?”

The girl shook her head.

“What’s it gonna be, pops?”

After slipping the picture in my pocket, I pulled out a couple of twenties and handed them to her.

She looked up the stairs. “Which room is yours?”

“No room. Take the money. Go watch a movie or something. Just get away from this for a little while.”

As I walked away, I heard her mutter, “Whatever.”

The warm
weather from just a couple of days prior was nothing more than a memory. I started to roll up my car window, then stopped. Instead, I set the heater on low and switched the fan to the floor. Cool, fresh air drifted in through the window, but the lower part of the car remained warm. It was a setting I had used for many years on patrol on nights like this.

The weak yellow street lights of East Sprague failed to light the doorways and alleyways as I passed them. I wanted to find the guy that probably killed Sammy G. I doubted he was the one who killed Fawn or Serena, but he knew something about it. His actions were too close to the case and too brutal for him not to know something.

I was working off the clock because if I told Crawford what I knew, all sorts of things would happen. My cases would get task-forced and I’d be lucky to even be a part of it. If I was right and it was the same guy that killed both Fawn and Serena, more girls would die while the task force battled to figure out who was in charge.

This was my case and I was going to find the sick bastard who killed both of these girls. And if this Sammy-the-Bull look-alike son
of a bitch got in the way, I’d walk through him, too.

“Listen to you, tough guy,” I muttered to myself. “Breaking all the rules.”

I spotted two figures on the corner of Sprague and Lee and another about two blocks further west. I swung in next to the closest two first. One of them, for a moment, struck a seductive pose, thrusting her hip out and arching her back like the models in men’s magazines all do. But as soon as my car drew near enough for her to make it as an unmarked police car, she turned away. The second girl, obviously younger, turned with her.

With a quick flick of my headlights, I got their attention. The older one turned around and raised both her hands in the air. “What?” she mouthed, her face pinched.

I turned off the lights and got out of the car, leaving it running.

“Come here.
Both of you.” Two blocks up, the other girl turned west and started walking away.

The first one was Asian
. “What the hell do you want?” she asked me with perfect English.

She wore a white one piece dress that hung off of her like she was just a wire hanger.

“What’s your name?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, man. Why are you hassling me? I’m just waiting for the bus.”

I looked to my left and right, but saw no bus stop. She watched me, then pointed across the street to the bingo lot where Fawn’s body had been dumped. A covered bus stop was located on the edge of the parking lot.

“Funny,” I said. “’Cause you were standing over here.”

“Is there a law that says I have to wait for the bus right over there?”

“Actually, yeah, there is.”

“Whatever. Creeps hang out under the cover. I don’t feel safe.”

“Why don’t we just cut through the crap and have a real conversation?”

“Real how?”

I pointed to the front of my car and she shuffled over and stood by the license plate.

“What’s your name?”

“Jade.”

“I’m not going to bother asking if that’s your real name. Then we don’t have to play the name game for another twenty minutes, all right?”

“Fine with me.”

I turned to the younger girl. She looked maybe twenty, which translated to probably seventeen if you took away the whore makeup. Maybe less. Her short red hair was gelled and pasted to her skull, like some science-fiction character. She wore a tight, black mini-skirt and a gray tank top. An oversized silver cross was attached to a black choker, reflecting the dull amber light of the streetlights.

“How about you?”

“What about me?” she snapped.

“What’s your name?”

“Fuck you. I ain’t got nothing to say to no cop.”

I held up my hands, “Whoa. Why all the hostility?”

“You assholes killed my brother. So go fuck yourself.” She turned and strode away purposefully. I let her go. I’d just have to catch up with her after I finished with Jade.

“Did you guys really kill her brother?”

I had no idea, so I ignored her statement. “When was the last time Sammy G. collected from you?”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Sammy G.?”

“Yeah. Sammy G. Or do you work for Rolo?”

“I don’t pay no one. I’m independent.”

I stepped in close enough to smell her musky scent of perfume and stale sex. “Do you see my headlights on, Jade? Do you see my emergency lights flashing?”

She gave me a confused look
. “No.”

“That’s because I am trying not to make a big production out of this. But if you want, I’ll throw you in the back of my car and take you up to the BSC clubhouse and tell them you’re my newest snitch.”

“Shit.”

“When did you pay Sammy G. last?”

“I paid him two days ago.” She looked left and right nervously.

“You know he’s dead?”

“Yeah, well, good riddance. I hope he rots.”

“Anyone else ask you about him?”

“About Sammy G.? Nobody talks about things like that, except maybe other girls.”

“Anyone try hurting you recently?”

“Like what? I get sickos every day.”

“Like really serious hurting. Raping, choking, stuff like that.”

She shook her head. “Nothing like that. I have one guy who gives me a miniature baseball bat and has me hit his pecker with it.”

“Sammy G. ever beat you?”

She shrugged. “He has his ways. Or
had
his ways, I should say.”

“Meaning?”

“He didn’t want to damage the merchandise, right? He never smacked us around. Maybe a hard grab or something. But if you crossed him more than a little, he’d bang the hell out of you.”

“He’d use rape to punish you?”

She shrugged. “I only had it happen once. That was enough for me. Some girls had it happen a few times.”

I crossed my arms. “He get violent with you when he raped you?”

“Jesus,” she muttered. “Rape’s not violent enough for you?”

“
What I mean is, did Sammy G. ever choke you, either on the street or when he was punishing you?”

“Huh-uh,” she said, with a slow shake of her head.

“How about any of the other girls? You ever hear of anything like that?”

“No, never. What’s with the choking questions?”

I ignored her question. “And no one’s been asking you about Sammy G. or any of the other girls this past week?”

“No. I told you that.”

I showed her a five by seven of Fawn Taylor. “You ever see this girl?”

She took a quick look at the picture and shrugged. “Once or twice.”

“When?”

“A month or so ago. She was hanging with Toni. You know Blonde Toni?”

“Yeah. Did Sammy G. ever hurt the girl in this picture?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. Like I said, I only talked to her once or twice. She was kinda hoighty-toighty for a crackhead.”

I showed her Serena Gonzalez’s DOL photo. “How about her?”

“That’s a lousy picture of her, but yeah, I think so.”

“Where?”

“I think she worked at one of the bars down here. She’d walk home some nights, right through the corridor. Some of the girls thought she was competition and were a little worried.”

“Why?”

“Girl was a hot tamale. She would’ve taken away a lot of business.”

“Did Sammy G. ever talk to her or hurt her?”

She gave another shrug. “Not that I heard about. But I don’t think she was working.”

I pulled a business card from my back pocket and handed it to her. “If any of those things I described happen to you or anyone around you, give me a call.”

I drove around briefly, looking for the little angry girl with the sci-fi haircut and dead brother, but she was off the main strip and nowhere to be seen. I swung in next to the other working girl I’d seen before she disappeared, too.

“Oh, for Chrissakes,” the prostitute said, spreading her hands open wide to me. “I’m just walking here.”

“I’m not looking to bust you,” I told her.

She was blonde and had her hair pulled back in a tight pony tail that bobbed when she walked.

“What are you looking for?” she asked. Her lips were pressed together, but even in the poor light, I could see the bright red lipstick.

“I’m not looking to screw you, either, so relax.”

She turned her hip to me and leaned forward slightly. The tube top she wore showed her ample cleavage. “Sugar, if you ain’t gonna bust me and you ain’t gonna fuck me, then you are wasting my motherfuckin’ time.”

“Wow. You eat with that mouth?”

She pursed her lips and let the tip of her tongue curl out slowly, caressing her lips. “Baby, I do
everything
with this mouth.”

Despite the long day, I had to smile at that one. “What’s your name?” I asked her.

“What do you want it to be?”

“Nuh-uh. What’s your name?”

She tilted her head as if she were trying to figure me out. “I go by Grace. What’s your name, baby?”

“Tower. John Tower.”

“You say that like it’s a secret agent name, John Tower.”

“I’ve got a few simple questions. After you answer them, you can go back to work and I’ll leave you be. On top of that, you can tell me to fuck off as you leave, if you want. Make anybody watching think you didn’t cooperate.”

“What do you want to know?” she said briskly. “And handcuff me while we talk.”

I stepped closer to her and motioned for her to turn around. She put her wrists together without being told.

“I know Sammy G. collected for the BSC out here,” I said.

“Congratulations.”

“Did he collect from you?”

“Is this an audit?”

I slipped the cuffs onto her wrists and clicked them home.

“Not too tight,” she said in a low voice.

I laid Serena’s picture on the hood of my car. “Can you see that?”

She nodded.

I took one of her elbows and used my foot to direct her to spread her feet apart. “Ever see her before?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“I never saw her before.”

I laid Fawn’s picture on top of Serena’s. “How about her?” I asked and reached toward her to pat her down.

“Yeah. I’ve seen her. She was working around here for a while about a month ago.”

My hands slid along her waistline. “Was she working alone?”

“Maybe. I dunno. I saw her with Blonde Toni once. By herself, too. She was an early-bird crack-head.”

“Early-bird?”

“Not all messed up yet. It takes a little while for crack to start showing through.”

I bent her over at the waist and ran my hand down her calf and checked her tennis shoes.

“You wanna pay for a date, Special Agent Tower?” she cooed at me. “‘Cause this is feeling like about twenty dollars’ worth.”

I didn’t answer her, but stood her back up and switched sides. She didn’t have a lot of clothing to search and I still had a few questions.

“Did Sammy G. ever hurt this girl?”

“Sammy who?”

I gave her wrist a little twist and she yelped. “Let’s play nice, Grace. No lies and we’ll get finished quicker.”

“That’s police brutality.”

“Did Sammy G. ever hurt the girl in the picture?”

“I don’t think so. She wasn’t around long enough. She made some payments and ditched a few, it seemed like. She was scoring her crack somewhere else. I never saw her at the clubhouse.”

“Sammy G. ever hurt you?”

I felt her body stiffen as I searched. “Why?”

“Just answer the question.”

“It doesn’t matter what he did to me. Besides, he was nothing compared to that sick fuck Rowdy.”

“Rowdy?” I bent her at the waist again and took my time squeezing her shoe as if searching for something. “Who’s Rowdy?”

“The guy who collected before Sammy.
He was a sadistic asshole, smacking girls around even when they paid. He forced some of us to do some weird shit, too.”

“Weird how?”

“Dungeons and whips, that kind of thing. I can’t stand that stuff.”

I walked her to the rear of the car and had her lean against it. The streetlight didn’t reach us there.

“What ever happened to Rowdy?”

“He’s still at the clubhouse. I don’t know what they’ve got him doing. I told Sammy G. that I wasn’t going on any more dates with Rowdy. If they made me, I’d leave town and go back to Portland or over to Seattle. I’m not into that freaky-deaky shit.”